


your soul's a mix of chaos and art

by CarmenOnMonday



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Dark Past, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Injuries, Miscommunication, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sappy Ending, They've got each other backs, True Love, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 17:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21080294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmenOnMonday/pseuds/CarmenOnMonday
Summary: “You don’t need it, okay? You don’t!”Dele’s shaking when in the last attempt of self defence he screams: “maybe I don’t need you!” and then flies from the bed.Moments later, front doors are shut with force.Eric groans and screams into his pillow. So much for not driving Dele away._____For a prompt: You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out





	your soul's a mix of chaos and art

“Okay, I’m off,” Dele shouts from his place on the stairs, where he’s tying his shoes. In a rapid movement, he jogs to the living room, plants a small kiss on Eric’s forehead, and then, in a blink, he disappears. “Don’t wait up!”

As soon as the doors after him close, Eric groans.

It’s normal that they have their separate lives, and that’s why ever since they started living together, they made sure to leave enough space for the other person. When Dele started to disappear in the evenings, at first explaining he’s just going to visit Milton Keynes, Eric assumed he’s meeting with his friends and family and didn’t ask any questions.

With the injuries troubling Dele for the past months, it’s only fair he needs a change in the environment. He needs a break; maybe even from Eric, if he’s the one reminding him about his football troubles.

Eric knows he can take it and actually, _needs_ to take it, for Dele’s sake. Whenever he’s back, usually late in the night, he’s more relaxed and happy, and he falls easily into Eric’s arms, demands his attention and gives back even more affection than normally. It should be enough to ease Eric’s anxiety; it should, but it isn’t, because there’s something nagging at Eric’s brain, some kind of bad feeling he can’t get rid of, that tells him Dele’s escaping from his arms.

Maybe the solution is to give him space, but maybe quite the contrary, Eric worries, maybe a few more weeks and he’ll disappear for good.

Eric’s preparing for bed when he notices Dele’s keys on a cabinet in their bedroom. He shakes his head, not really surprised, and drops Dele a text, just so he wouldn’t look for them anywhere else, and so he would know to call Eric when he’s back.

Two hours later, when Eric’s eyes are dropping and he’s barely registering the stupid reality show he was lazily watching, in a last coherent thought he remembers to take a look at his phone, just to make sure Dele got his message.

He wakes up fully when he realises Dele didn’t open the message. Sick feeling fills Eric’s stomach again. It’s nothing, Dele’s just busy – that’s the simplest and most probable explanation. But it won’t hurt to make sure he knows where his keys are, just so he won’t worry, Eric tells himself while opening writing another text, this time to Harry. It crosses Eric mind that maybe he’s overreacting and it will make him look stupid, but one small text won’t hurt anyone, so he writes:

**Hey, can you tell Del he left his keys home? Tell him to call me when he’s back**

Casual enough, he decides, and send the text before he turns to his other side and tries to will himself to sleep.

A ping from his phone comes just seconds later.

_You know I would, mate, but Dele’s not here...? I’m at my parents_

Eric’s eyes go wide.

_Is everything ok?_

Eric takes a few deep breaths, reasoning with himself that it means exactly nothing, and decides to play it cool.

**Must’ve mixed it, he said he’s out with his mates, just thought you would be there. It’s okay**

Eric slowly gets out of the bed and walks to bathroom, wanting to walk off his buzzing emotions. There’s absolutely zero reasons for him to panic; Eric probably doesn’t know all Dele’s mates (but he does, a second voice in his brain contributes), and it’s nothing out of normal for Dele go out with them without Harry (he never does that), and he’ll back safe, in just few hours, safe and happy. Exactly the way he is whenever he gets back from his escapades.

They give him something; something Eric might not be able to offer. But it’s okay. It’s okay.

When Dele comes back, just before 3am, he does call Eric; Eric, who caught barely minutes of restless sleep and who is wide awake at the first sound coming from his phone.

He puts all his attention to Dele and tries to look for signs; of what, he’s afraid to think. What he sees is a sly smile and unusually glinting eyes, a smell of smoke and some alcohol, all of it hiding the boy he knows and loves so much.

He looks happier, at the first glance, but underneath it all there’s an edge Eric doesn’t like at all. He doesn’t say anything though. He lets Dele cuddle into his arms, makes sure to offer him a safe place to come back into, and wishes that’s enough.

He promises himself to watch him even more closely in the next weeks.

A few weeks later, Eric just can’t take it anymore. Dele continues to come back home a bit more cheerful but also clearly drunk, giddy, smelling of clubs, of smoke, of other people's perfume. One time, he even comes back with his shirt torn, and just shrugs while saying they had a bit too much fun.

The next time, Eric starts asking questions.

“I’m going out!” Dele announces from the bedroom.

Eric walks in to see him choosing a hoodie. He takes the plain black one, and then black trainers.

“Where to?”

Dele blinks at him, surprised to be questioned.

“Here and there. Milton Keynes with mates, you know how it is,” he explains.

“Will Harry be there?” Eric winces internally at his almost accusing tone. He doesn’t want to sound like he’s spying on him. 

“Yep. Yes. He’s always there,” Dele says, turning his back to Eric, and Eric knows, just like that, that he’s been lied to all these weeks. Wherever Dele goes, he doesn’t want Eric to know.

It burns, the realisation that the space they always left for each other to be comfortable wasn’t enough; that the trust he offered was exploited anyway.

What hurts even more is the sight of Dele who couldn’t lie to save his life turn his back on Eric with no second thought.

“Okay,” Eric whispers. “Have fun.”

Dele turns and flashes him a smile. As always, he offers a small kiss, just a peck they exchange wherever they go opposite ways – are they for real, this time? – and then he’s gone.

A few hours later, Eric’s phone rings.

“Harry? What’s up?” Eric responds immediately.

“Hey mate, you home?”

Eric’s blood goes cold. “Yeah. What’s wrong?”

“...nothing. I’ll come round, okay?” he says, and then hangs up, leaving Eric in even more worry than before.

Harry arrives quickly, which is a blessing for Eric’s mental health, unlike the look he sports on his face.

“Listen,” he starts, “do you know where Dele’s been going out recently? With whom?”

Eric shakes his head, reluctantly admitting to the shortcomings of their communication.

Harry leads them both to Eric’s couch, forces him to sit down before he starts explaining. “Dele called me today to ask to cover for him, in case you asked.”

It’s like a knife has been pushed into his chest and then twisted for a good measure.

“...and I came straight to you, which makes me a terrible brother, probably, but I’m worried. You must be too. Tell me what’s been going on.” Harry bites his lip, and waits.

Eric tells him then, because he’s been holding it inside for far too long. He talks about late night returns, about drinking and how changed he is whenever he’s back, about the shadow looming in the background all the time, that not even his too cheerful smile can cover but which seems better hidden behind this new image of Dele’s. He even tells his about the energy he carries most of the time when he comes back, and the way he falls straight into Eric’s arms in an attempt to burn down the adrenaline.

“So he’s not cheating on you,” is the first thing Harry says after.

Eric shrugs. “I... I don’t know. Maybe he is. Don’t you think it’s a book example? He goes somewhere with someone, lies about it, comes back happier.”

“And then wants to fuck with you. So no. He’s not.” Eric winces at his bluntness. “No, Eric, I- I know my brother. He wouldn’t. But there’s something going on and we need to find out what it is.”

“I’m not going to be one of those jealous partners spying on their loved ones. That’s not me.”

Harry gives him a hard look. “I think it’s time you forget your stupid assumptions and think about his wellness.”

Eric flinches. “What?”

“Are you more worried about Dele or your image as his boyfriend?” Harry asks, although not unkindly.

“Of course about him!”

“Exactly. So let’s help him, okay? He’s not been himself, I noticed too. Especially after you texted me the first time. To be honest, I haven’t seen him in a while, I thought he was licking his wounds here, with you, but-“ Harry chuckles bitterly. “He managed to deceive us both, it seems.”

Eric lets out a long breath.

“So what now? What are we doing?”

“I’ll call all his other mates. Maybe he’s with them and it’s not that bad. Have you tried asking Jadon? Or Rob?”

Shame flushes Eric’s face red. “Nah. Didn’t want to... Didn’t want to admit I didn’t know where he is.”

“Okay, so that’s where we’re starting.”

Ten minutes later, it’s clear that Dele isn’t spending his time with any other mates they know of.

Harry hangs up with resignation, having talked to the last one that came into his mind. “No luck.”

Throughout the night, Eric kept pulling at the skin around his nails; he tugs at it with a new force now, hissing when the blood spills. “Shit,” he mutters and goes to the sink to wash his hands. “So what now? He said a few times he’s going to Milton Keynes. Should we assume it was a lie too?”

Harry seems thoughtful. “See, I don’t think so. He’s so terrible at lying... I think he told the truth, just not the whole truth. I’ve got an idea where he might be, I just don’t like it.”

Eric puts a band-aid over his finger, reaches out for his car keys and goes straight to the door, unable to stay still one minute more.

“Come on, let’s find him,” he says, and even though he’s scared to think where exactly he might find him, he forces himself not to think about it. The most important thing is to make sure he’s safe.

They drive through the town, Harry giving Eric directions, and it seems to him that he makes them wander around, not really having any concrete idea. Until suddenly, he says “stop!”, and Eric hits the brakes right before a small lane between two buildings.

“Park the car,” Harry instructs, and then gets out of it. “I hope he’s not there. I really do. But if he is, stay calm, okay?”

Eric follows him down the narrow path. It’s one of those shady, smelly places you wouldn’t like to cross on your own in the night. But Eric takes step by step, not sure if he wants to see Dele behind the corner or not.

At the end of the path, there are stairs down; they can hear the music coming from this direction.

Just before they make themselves known, Harry gives him a warning look. And then they take the final step.

A scene that’s unfolding in front of them could easily be a clip from a film.

A group of thugs, teenagers and older ones, are gathered around the fire. The loud music makes Eric ears hurt, the smoke coming from the fire and from joints in their mouths immediately tickle his eyes. Empty bottles are scattered everywhere, some of them broken at their feet. In one corner, some couple is kissing obscenely without any care for the spectators, in another, two guys wrestle themselves in what seems to quickly change into a real fight.

They all shout at each other, some stupid, filthy jokes that seem to make them laugh like the best comedy ever written.

Eric searches through the crowd desperately, hoping he won’t see the familiar face, not in a place like this, but then-

Then, there he is, somewhere in the back, a joint in his mouth, laughing hysterically next to two lanky lads who look worryingly pale.

Without any thought, he starts walking towards him, adrenaline rushing to his brain.

A big figure stepping in front of him stops him in his trucks.

“Who the hell you are?” the thug asks. “It’s a private party, rich boy.”

Eric raises his hands. “I’m just here to collect a friend, and then I’m off.”

“And who the hell is your friend here?”

“Dele. We’re here for Dele, Tom,” Harry says from behind Eric. His presence is weirdly comforting.

“Ah, Hickford. Long time no see.” The thug, Tom, takes a look at oblivious Dele still having fun in the back. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to go, huh?”

“Cut it out. We’re taking him, and then we’re off.”

“Fucking buzzkill, as always, good boy Harry,” Tom quips. “I don’t know-“

“Eric?!” Dele shouts from the distance and approaches them as quickly as his wobbly legs let him. “What the fuck-“

“Exactly. What the fuck, Dele, what. The. Fuck.” Eric can’t help himself.

Dele visibly deflates and crosses his arms.

“Come on, Dele, we’re going. Now!”

But Dele doesn’t seem to listen, he takes a step back. “No.”

“See? He said no,” Tom contributes and bring an arm around him. Dele flinches, but stays back.

Eric loses his chill. “Dele, for fuck’s sake, come on!”

And only after Dele closes off even more, flinches as if he was punched, he realises his mistake.

“Fuck,” Eric mutters and lets Harry push him to take a step back.

It’s him that comes closer to Dele, and coaxes him away from this lad.

He talks quietly, but with an intent and obvious honesty. “We’re not angry, Dele, we just came to take you home, okay? You’re not in trouble, everything is okay, just come with me. I’ll always take you home, remember? Will you let me, one more time? Everything is okay. Come on, bro.”

He reaches out a hand to him, and Dele raises his eyes, measures Harry for a moment, but then takes a step closer to him.

“I’m just chilling with lads, Harry, just having some fun. It’s okay, I’m okay. See, the lads are here-“

“Yeah, Del, I see. But it’s late and time to go home, okay? We’ve been worried. We’ll just go to sleep, okay?”

Dele nods slightly. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, ‘m tired. I’m off, Tom.”

He gives them a vile look but lets Dele go. Dele puts down the joint and waves at his mates, who stare after him with wide, hazy eyes.

Harry leads Dele out, and Eric takes one more look at the scene, throws them all a challenge to come at him, but none of the lads do. The image burns into his mind, the image of a different world just behind the corner, of people hiding in the shadows, of cheap alcohol and unfortunate events and empty eyes on two skinny faces, of lanky figures drowning in too big clothes and big muscles formed in constant battles.

His nails cut through his skin, when he puts his hands into fists, both scared and angry; then he turns around and leaves.

Dele falls asleep on the way back. Eric asks Harry to drive, feeling too unsteady to handle it at the moment, and peers to the backseat, searching Dele’s face for answers.

They’re not there.

He looks peaceful and young, and if not for the smell and the dirt on his shirt, no one would be able to tell what kind of companions he spent his evening with.

“You can’t get angry at him,” Harry whispers. “If you want him to talk to you... You can’t. You’ll scare him off.”

Eric blood boils. “Have you seen what he put himself into?!”

“This is not the first time I pulled him out of there, Dier. Yes, I’ve seen. Take my advice. If you want him to stay, you can’t snap at him.”

Once home, Eric carries unconscious Dele to their bed. He’s too mad to stay with him in the bed, but still too worried to leave him alone. He sits in the armchair and stares at him idly; at some point, he drifts off, his mind providing him with images of teenage Dele with glazy eyes, saying “I’m done, Eric” and then withering away.

When Eric wakes up, it’s to a pair of big eyes looking at him from the bed. Dele’s face is closed off, but his eyes always show the truth; he’s scared, and it makes Eric’s heart hurt.

“Delboy,” he starts in a hoarse voice, stretching his limbs. He gets up slowly, the events of last night taking its toll on his muscles.

Dele brings the blanket up, cover his face with it, like it’s enough to hide him from the world. The thing is, and has been for weeks – Eric doesn’t want Dele to think he needs to hide from him.

He stands up and goes to the bed. He leans on one knee and slowly reaches out for the blanket, uncovering shivering Dele.

“Do you want something to eat?” He asks. “You need food.”

“I don’t want to.” Dele’s lips form a tight line, his nerves obvious. “Just say what you want to say.”

Eric drops heavily on the bed.

“Why, Del?” he asks, not even sure what he’s asking about. Why did you lie? Why did you put yourself in danger? Why did you risk your career? Why did you come back to the place you luckily escaped?

Dele shakes his head.

“I just wanted to have some fun. Didn’t do anything wrong,” he says protectively.

Eric tries to control his emotions, but it’s not easy.

“Nothing wrong? Smoking pot isn’t wrong?”

“I don’t play anyway, and won’t for a long time. Doesn’t matter.”

“But it does! That’s the thing, it does! It matters, you matter!”

Dele doesn’t flinch at the outburst, just rolls his eyes, and Eric can’t take it anymore.

“What the hell were you thinking? What about your career?”

“Oh, come off it. It’s in shambles anyway. Might as well have some fun.”

“No, you don’t believe that. I know you don’t. Why won’t you talk to me?” Eric asks desperately.

“Cause you don’t get it!” Dele roars.

“I don’t get it? Do they? Do your junkie friends know anything about your life?”

“Yes, they do! They know how it is to fuck every single thing you touch! But of course you don’t understand, mister privileged, never wanting anything in your life, with your perfect family and-“

“Stop. Stop before you say something you’ll regret, and think about it,” Eric cuts in. “I know you don’t think this way, I know you know I’m-“ Eric’s anger buzzes in his veins and he finds it hard to find the right words, but Harry’s advice is still in his mind, as a warning sign reminding him not to let himself get carried away. “You’re mad at being injured, I know. You’re mad and tired and just want to let off the steam, but this is wrong.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, you just smoked some pot. You got into a fight, once or twice. You lied to me and you family. What’s next?”

Every word of Eric’s seems to hit Dele exactly where it hurts. It doesn’t give Eric any satisfaction, but he knows it needs to be done. Maybe Dele needs to be harshly waken up to this reality he built for himself.

“You don’t need it, okay? You don’t!”

Dele’s shaking, when in the last attempt of self-defence he screams: “maybe I don’t need you!” and then flies from the bed.

Moments later, the front door are shut with force.

Eric groans and screams into his pillow. So much for not driving Dele away.

Eric spends the day in turns feeling sorry for himself and then dragging himself in his mind. He feels unequipped for dealing with this situation; he loves Dele so much it hurts, and he knows Dele needs him now. On the other hand, Eric doesn’t like him very much at the moment, even though he knows it’s just a self defence mechanism used against him.

He doesn’t know how to help Dele; should he just let it go, trust him to take care of himself and take a step back, until the next time? He wants to protect him from the whole world though, and he can’t take the thought of Dele ever reverting back to his old habits.

On the other hand, he knows he shouldn’t be too harsh on him. He would hate to make him distance himself from Eric, maybe even purposefully go search for comfort somewhere else. Deles probably right; Eric is privileged, he never had to face rejection from his close ones, he never had to worry much about money. He doesn’t know how it is to feels alone in the world. He used to think his love would be enough to make Dele feel less lonely, less desperate for acceptance. Maybe he was wrong.

Eric mopes. He can’t focus on anything else when he has a head full of uncomfortable images. He tries to read, but resigns after a page, and instead stares at his phone, thinking about the right words to say. He walks out of the house with the dogs and painfully feels the emptiness by his side.

He goes over his words again in the evening, regretting them profusely and wondering if he should call Harry, at least, to check if Dele’s there with him. He hopes he is.

But then the doorbell rings.

It’s Dele on the opposite side.

Eric feel a painful pang in his stomach. “Why won’t you just come in?” he asks, making way for him to go inside, hoping he will.

Dele steps in, looking even younger than last night, even more scared than in the morning.

“...didn’t know if you’d want me back,” he mumbles, and Eric’s composure crumbles.

“It’s your home, Del, you’re always wanted here,” Eric says, tiredly, his heart on the sleeve. He closes his eyes and leans against the wall in the corridor.

He can hear Dele leaning against the opposite wall.

“I didn’t mean to. I never mean to fuck up and I still do. I hoped I wouldn’t do it with you, and yet,” Dele explains, his voice screaming exhaustion. When Eric opens his eyes, Dele is sitting down on the floor, like his legs won’t carry him anywhere further in. Eric copies his position.

“I just wish you would talk to me,” he whispers.

“Yeah. Just. Like it’s that easy.”

“Look at us, talking. We’re acing it.”

Dele smiles slightly, and Eric counts it as a small success.

“...life escaped me, I think. Just wanted to have some control. It’s- It’s so easy to fall back into my old mindset, you know? I met one of the lads in the club, here in London, the last time we went out with the boys. One word led to another, and we decided to see each other, just to talk about the old times. Then the injury happened, and I had time to join him in MK, and- I stepped into this old crowd and it felt... It felt like coming back to my right place...? Like I was never supposed to leave it.”

“Del.”

“No, listen. At first, I thought – I’m still me, the success didn’t change me. I can go out with them, once in a while, it’d be okay. And then I would come back to you. So I didn’t have to tell you anything, cause it wasn’t that important. Just for old times’ sake. But it felt so good to let go. To be one of the lads, not some injured has-been or should-have-been. It was like a drug. I felt so good with them, so free, and then it went too far to tell you, and... I guess I was ashamed, so I knew I was doing something wrong, but-“ Dele’s trembling.

“It’s not about lying, Dele. It’s about you, not me. It’s wrong because it puts your career in danger, okay? Injuries are just bumps on the road, but if you lose yourself on the way-“

“I know, it just didn’t feel wrong at the time, but I know, Eric, I’m not stupid. At the moment, it was irrelevant, just a night out here and there. I didn’t meant to disappoint you, I-“

“You still don’t get it. It’s not about me being disappointed. I’m not. I’m worried.” Eric takes a big breath before he brings the hard ammunition. ”I love you so much, Del.”

This is all he can offer. Eric has no idea what kind of support Dele needs, he keeps fucking it up too, but this, right here, is the key point. He loves him.

It has to be enough.

“I love you too.” Dele’s voice is sure, and in that, Eric finds solace. “I just don’t know how to- How to reach out when-“

“I’m always right here. Not to judge you, not to control you. I swear, Del, I wanted to give you space, but it backfired, cause you didn’t feel supported, so now- I need you to tell me when you need me, okay? I’m right here.”

“I know. I know. I just went into my head-“

“Go to Harry, if you can’t talk to me. Go to the lads. Go to Peter, he’s here to help.” Peter, their club therapist. “I’m never disappointed in you, and I won’t be if you decide to go to someone else. But please let yourself be helped.”

“Eric-“ Dele starts, but he can’t say anything more; tears spill from his eyes and he closes his mouth not to let sob out.

“I don’t understand it yet. But I want to. I’ll listen more, I swear. Okay?’ I will always listen.”

Dele cries even harder, and in a rapid jump, falls into Eric’s chest with a force, his limbs tangling without any grace.

“I’m so sick of being injured- And alone- I’m alone-“

“I’m right here. Right here, Del.” Eric realises his own cheeks are wet now too. “Talk to me. I want to help you feel less alone. And I’m not angry at you, I’m never angry, even if you fuck up – and you don’t fuck up, really, it’s not your fault – even if you did, I would never be mad. It’s okay, Del.”

He sobs into Eric’s chest, lets out everything that’s been troubling him, and Eric worries again if this is healthy, if the despair he lets himself address won’t encompass him and tie him, if they’ll be able to get through this – but minutes after minutes, Dele’s sobs quieten and then die down, and he relaxes slightly, finally not so wound up.

When he raises his eyes, they are red and puffy all around, but inside, Eric sees some peace, like letting it all out allowed him to get rid of the consuming pain.

He sees just a tiny flash of hope and he knows they made it through the first turning point.

“You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” he whispers to him, and he knows he’s not lying.

Being with someone, truly being together is never easy – everybody has demons troubling him, everybody has weaknesses and bad habits.

But they’ll make it, Eric’s sure.

They will.

**Author's Note:**

> make my evening with a comment, pls  
also here's my [tumblr](http://www.dieretmoi.tumblr.com)


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